Vilified.

[Sabin / Madjinn]

The opening shot…

The IWF World Television Championship. The light catches the surface of the title causing a shimmering effect, and the camera focuses on the nameplate: WRAITH. “It… is… mine.” The familiar voice belonging to the newly crowned champion greets the audience with the three words that come out in the form of a low growl. The camera cautiously retreats a couple of steps and begins panning upward where the current IWF World Television Champion, and one-half of the IWF World Tag Team Champions sits. Sabin– Wraith.

He sits in the throne of Heir to the Throne, hunching forward with the TV title in one hand, and the tag team title in the other. There is that hereditary “Docherty” smirk on his face that seems to get under the skin of a fair amount of people… the sort of smirk that tells you they’re better than you, and they know it. His face paint is smudged, appearing as if he had just come from out of the most physical competition that he had been in, and whilst standing there, he cocks his head to the side and traces his tongue across his lips.

“How does it feel, Nicky, to have put everything on the line against me– delusional– delusional into believing that you were going to walk out as the winner?” The mocking click of the tongue comes in rapid succession from Wraith, as he lets out a short but menacing laugh.

“You convinced yourself that this–” Wraith raises the TV title, and tilts his head toward the title while resuming, “–was going to save you. This– was going to shelter you. This– was going to give you that fire… that spirit… that determination and will that you needed to go against your greatest opponent, and you were going to get the greatest victory of your career…” Wraith snickers.

He slings both of the titles on his shoulders, leans back in the throne, and cracks his neck before resuming, “You were warned. You were warned, but because you could not listen, I had to take this title away from you. I had to do what nobody thought you would ever do, and I had to make you tap out in the middle of the ring! And I know– I know– I’m going to hear it from you, I’m going to hear it from Matthew, I’m probably even going to hear it from James Gilmore… Father– Angel– intervened, but the way that the three of you are going to twist this and the reason for why it actually happened is a concept that you cannot seem to grasp, so please… allow me to explain…”

He smacks his lips together, giving a brief hesitation as his gaze falters away from the camera momentarily; that coy smile is still on his face, though, and he nods his head as if he were conversing with himself.

“Father–” he raises his head to make eye contact with the audience, “–showed you mercy. You see, Nicky, Father and I– we know you. We understand you. We see how courageous you are. We see all the heart that you have for doing this thing that you love, even if you are never going to be on our level– we admire that you aspire… You were never going to tap out, Nick. You were never going to admit defeat… so long as there was hope… I was going to break you. I was going to break your arm. I was going to break your neck. I was going to break your body. I was going to break your heart. I was going to break your spirit. The world would not recognize you as the same Nick Danger that scratched, clawed, and fought his way to call himself the IWF World Television Champion! The world would not recognize you as the same Nick Danger that continues to get up when all of the odds are stacked against him. The world was not going to recognize you if you did not accept the inevitable.”

The memory of how Wraith had Nick locked in the arm triangle, The Phoenix Triangle, causes the corner of his lips to curl into another smirk, and he snickers.

“You tapped out, Nick. You accepted your positioning… you accepted that you were in trouble… you accepted that there was no way out, and you tapped out. There’s nothing wrong with it! Please, Nick– don’t be like those fools who believe that there’s something dishonorable about admitting defeat. You live to fight another day! And– as you say yourself– you are going to come back after my title.” He says whilst leaning closer to the lens, “I welcome it.” His voice comes out as another growl while muttering those words.

“I welcome the wrath that you are going to bring this week when you team with James Gilmore, and I welcome the chance to bury that same spirit that James Gilmore has when he gets into the ring with me! James Gilmore– ever the optimist. James Gilmore– ever the definition of your beloved Dallas Cowboys. You haven’t been the World Champion in over two years, but I’m sure you’re going to remind us how you held it two-times… I’m sure you’re going to dig deep–” He says while balling his hand into a fist, “–and come up with some speech about how the Rebels overthrew the Empire, and how the Jedi overcame the Sith, and just to make a long story short: you’re going to say how the good guys prevail. You’re probably practicing your speech in front of the mirror right now while not-so-secretly wishing that Fiona would give you just a little taste. You’re probably convincing yourself that– I’m evil. You’re probably convincing yourself that– I’m sick. I’m twisted. I’m deranged, and I will break you on a whim. You are probably finding every reason to vilify me in your mind so that when you get into the ring with me, you know better than to treat me like a human being.”

Wraith snorts. The clawed fingernail taps against his chin several times as he pushes himself from the wall, casually taking a slow stride forward as he brushes the back of his heel against the floor. He purposely clicks his tongue several times, letting the cliffhanger linger for several seconds.

“I am sick. I am twisted. I am deranged, and I will break you on a whim! But evil–” Wraith wags a finger at the camera, “That is a matter of perspective. Is it evil for me to fight back against all of those that want to drag my name through the mud? Is it evil for me to defend myself? Is it? Or is that just what everybody wants to tell you– that I’m evil because I was raised to be great… That I’m evil because I want to win a title. That I’m evil because when I have you locked in a submission, I am not letting go until you tap out or black out. The problem is– that is a choice. That is your choice. That is their choice, and I am tired of being vilified because they made a choice, and I made them pay for their choice! But… y’know…” Wraith spreads his arms out as if to expose his chest as an open target.

“Take your best shot! Take every shot you can at me… This goes to you. This goes to Nick. This goes to everybody in Heir to the Throne. FIRE! EVERYTHING! Fire everything you have at me, because when you run out of ammunition, I am still going to be standing, and I am going to break each and every one of you with my bare hands to get to the end of Heir to the Throne and have my name announced as the challenger against my brother! Bring yourselves to your own downfall!” Wraith says with a maniacal laughter.

As it subsides, he cocks his head to the side and that smirk does wipe from his face. He chatters his teeth a couple of times, and licks his lips before continuing, “But Matt Knox… Matt, Matt, Matt Knox. You don’t like me. I don’t like you. We’re not going to pretend otherwise. All I want you to do this week is pay attention. Watch me break them. Watch me show Nicky that it was not a fluke last week… watch me break James Gilmore and send his life spiraling even further out of control than it already is! And know– Matt– know that when the day comes that you meet me in Heir to the Throne… I will fucking break you, too.”

Wraith snorts out, flaring his nostrils while scooching further into the throne to get himself nice and comfortable. He rests his elbow on the armrest, and then his head in his hand.

“This... is... mine.” Wraith mutters as the scene comes to a close.